


the rose speaks of love silently

by Nebbles



Series: Felix rarepair week 2021 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Slow Burn, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: When Felix finds himself set to wed Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, of all people, his first thought is that there's no way in hell it'll work out, and he's got better things to do than remain in Gloucester.That is, until he actually gets to know the man. Love's funny like that.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Series: Felix rarepair week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134791
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Felix Rarepair Week 2021





	the rose speaks of love silently

**Author's Note:**

> I did not expect this to hit 10k words, but when you got a good idea, go the full mile with it! I had fun working with these prompts, and I usually don't dabble in arranged marriage, but Felirenz begged otherwise.
> 
> For day 1 of Felix Rarepair week: Arranged Marriage+Tea! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did!

“You have got to be kidding me,” are the first words that exit Felix’s mouth as he stares down the person in front of him, “you couldn’t find me anyone in the Kingdom for this ridiculous arrangement?”

“Felix, please try to understand.” Rodrigue gives yet another exasperated sigh. “You know I’ve looked at every option, and I believe you’re being rather impoli—”

He scoffs, arms crossed, scowl painted upon his face. “I think I should have a say if you’re forcing me into this marriage. Do you really expect me to sit here and be quiet?”

“I suppose not.” Felix notes how tired his father looks, but is under no obligation to _care._ “But Count Gloucester has told me many wonderful anecdotes of Lorenz, and I’m sure the two of you will get to know each other and bond.”

Felix’s scrutinizing glare doesn’t leave Lorenz, whose own gaze holds less vitriol. He looks absolutely ridiculous, long purple hair woven into a fancy braid over his shoulder, outfit trimmed with golds and red as if he did nothing but live and breathe to dress for stuffy, formal events. One may say his features are sharp, eyes striking, and Felix knows he’d argue back they should stand to get their eyes checked. It’s a petty thing to find annoyance in, but Lorenz is so damn _tall._

“Your son could stand to be more well behaved.” Count Gloucester’s posture is perfect, back against the chair, arms folded in his lap. “You are fortunate I agreed to this in the first place, Duke Fraldarius. Do not make me rescind my generous offer.”

Felix swears he sees Lorenz flinch, expression sour for a split second. Huh.

“Forgive me.” Rodrigue looks like he’s complacent with the idea of ‘accidentally’ spilling hot tea into Count Gloucester’s lap. Felix knows he wouldn’t blame him. “If you offer us a moment alone so I may speak to him, I am positive he shall be more receptive to this.”

His expression doesn’t waver. “Fine. Do be back shortly. Fetch us another pot of tea, will you?” He gives a wave of his hand to a nearby maid. “I can sense we shall be here for a while. Stay where you are, Lorenz.”

“Of course.” For a second, his gaze follows Felix before he exits with a bow.

Felix is glad to be out of that room—it’s too ornate, too brightly decorated and it reeks of roses—as he follows Rodrigue down the hallway. The entire estate looks ridiculous, and he’s missing the simplicity of Fraldarius’ estate more by the second. The less he mentions how much he’s inclined to stab Count Gloucester, the better. 

“Tell me again why I should be agreeing to this.” It’s Felix’s turn to sigh. “Lorenz looks just as miserable as I am, and it’s not like his father is jumping for joy at the opportunity.”

“Gloucester is the only noble house in the Alliance who values Crests in a similar manner to Faerghus, Felix. Could I have arranged for you to marry someone in the Kingdom, I would have done so.” He rubs his temples, eyes shut. “This secures both of our houses.”

“So you’re selling your children out for prestige,” he spits. “I expected better from you.” From the little he’s witnessed, this feels par for the course for Lorenz’s father. 

“Felix.” His tone is terse as well. “I am simply looking out for what is best for our future. If you and Lorenz choose to have children via surrogacy in the fut—”

He cuts him off with an indignant scoff. “I’m not interested in even marrying him, nonetheless raising a family. You’re lucky I haven’t left yet.” 

Of course it’s coming back to Crests, how he’s one of the few to carry a major one, how it makes him so goddamn _sought_ after. Gloucester’s own carries its weight, offering magic prowess behind normal means. No matter what’s passed down, so this so-called logic goes, the child will have a privileged bloodline and carry on their legacy. 

It’s all a load of bullshit, if Felix wishes to state it bluntly. Personal feelings aside, Lorenz sure doesn’t deserve to be thrown into this mess their fathers have put them in. There’s a chance Lorenz is just as angry about this, just as bitter, and is forced to play along. With another sigh, he looks up to Rodrigue, frown less prevalent. He thinks of how Count Gloucester looked as his son, as if he’s nothing more than an asset. He thinks of that flinch he saw, and wonders if there’s more beneath the surface.

Lorenz deserves to have a voice of his own too, and maybe he’ll be the one to drill that into his head.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t expect much more than that.” If this ends up falling apart, he’s going to make sure this arrangement never sees the light of day. “Satisfied?”

Rodrigue looks as if he’s fighting off a migraine. “Thank you, Felix.”

* * *

Awkward doesn’t begin to describe the silence between them both. They’ve moved to Lorenz’s room, which is as overly decorated as the rest of the estate. A vase of roses lies in the middle of a tea table covered with an ornate white, lace table cloth. A pair of tea cups lie on ivory saucers, their edges a deep red. To Felix’s lack of surprise, a pattern of roses makes its way around their outside. 

So… flowers. Far from Felix’s strong suit. There’s several books on the tall shelves that define the back wall of Lorenz’s room, but none of them seem to be about weapons. Makes sense. Magic. From what Felix can see, if he’s ever curious about government treatises, tea or the fine arts, it’s the perfect collection of books to read. Great. This is going as well as expected.

“What type of tea do you prefer, Felix?” It’s asked so politely, and Felix can’t tell if it’s sincere or not. “I assure you Gloucester has quite the fine arrangement of blends.”

Ugh. Even his speech is flowery. “Almyran Pine Needles or a Four Spice Blend. Nothing sweet.” He’s going to be sick of flowers by the time this is over.

“What a strong palate!” Oh. He’s genuine. Felix figures no one would fake being excited over tea. “It is rare we get imports from Almyra, but I have always enjoyed their tea when such an opportunity graces us. I would hardly mind preparing us a pot.”

All Felix manages to do is nod, almost sort of dumbly. It’s as if the Lorenz he saw at his father’s side was a completely different man. It’s hardly his place to ask, but he has to wonder how he actually feels about this, and if he’s ever managed to speak his mind. While Felix subscribes to the belief Count Gloucester needs an earful, how does his own son feel about this?

“Would you care for any pastries alongside the tea, Felix?” Lorenz asks with a smile. “It is only polite that I offer, and I assure you I can acquire something perfect to match the tea.”

“I’m not a fan of sweets.” The air’s still weird. “Just the tea is fine.”

“Not something I have encountered before, I must admit. I shall return with the tea in but a moment.” Lorenz bows once again, and begins to prepare a tray. “...Do try to make yourself at home. I hope that Gloucester is suitable to your needs.”

Somehow, he understands Lorenz even less. He has half a mind to ask what Lorenz honestly thinks about this, about his father, but knows he’s not going to get anywhere. His blunt nature’s something he can use here, but Felix thinks it’s not worth the headache at the moment. If nothing else, he’s going to learn who Lorenz actually is, and hopes he isn’t blindly following his father out of so-called “noble obligations”. 

He observes Lorenz’s room once more while he’s left alone. A canopy bed, with what Felix guesses is decorated in purple and white silk sheets, catches his eye. It’s also covered in a ridiculous amount of pillows, all bearing some sort of fancy pattern. He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Goddess help him if he has to sleep in that at some point. It’s big enough to avoid being close to one another, but his point still stands. 

One’s bedroom can tell a lot about them, but in this case, Felix is left with more questions than anything else. Either this shows who Lorenz actually is, or it’s who his father wants him to be. 

He decides to mill around the bookshelf as he waits, inspecting each title closer. The amount of books on different aspects of government are staggering, and take up about a sizable amount of the shelves. There’s collections of old Alliance treaties and practices ranging from agricultural to taxation, and a few things Felix can’t recognize for the life of him. He’s never given much attention to politics or their inner workings; Faerghus has always preferred the way of the sword over anything else. Lorenz lives and breathes this life, and Felix is ready to argue it’s more of a detriment than anything else. He’s grown up idealizing what his life _should_ entail and nothing else.

Felix pities him. What a stupid way to grow up. 

His fingers brush against the spines of books about the opera next, then to flowers, then to tea. If these are Lorenz’s actual interests, they should be more important than some stuffy old tomes with weathered texts about outdated practices. Sure, they’re used for study and understanding today’s or whatever, but he’s not about to believe anyone needs to sacrifice nearly half a bookshelf for it. 

Unsure of what compels him to, Felix pulls out a codex detailing different varieties of roses. He thumbs through the pages, noting that there’s writing in the margins—Lorenz’s own additions on what he’s done to help make them grow. Flowers are pressed into sections between each chapter, the colors and sizes of their petals far beyond what Felix has ever seen. He thinks back to the gardens he saw when approaching the estate, and wonders if Lorenz has spent time in his element instead of stifling offices under his father’s judgmental stare.

“Ah, Felix!” Lorenz’s voice startles him, and he snaps the book shut. “I did not realize you carried an interest in botany. If you desire, there are plenty more titles I can show you.”

“I don’t.” Felix sets it back on the shelf. “Fraldarius is freezing. We’d never have flowers like this grow there, anyway.”

“There are certain plants that thrive within such frigid environments, I shall have you know.” Lorenz sets the tea tray on the table. “Come enjoy a cup of tea. I do hope it is brewed to your preference.”

He does so, and is more than happy to smell the warm, smoky aroma of the pine needles as Lorenz pours him a cup. If nothing else, he’s glad Lorenz isn’t like his father, and he’s going to enjoy this cup of tea far more than the one from before. As he picks it up, he notices Lorenz’s expectant gaze and smile, as if he’s eagerly awaiting for him to take a sip.

It’s the best cup of tea Felix has ever had in his life, but he’s not about to admit this out loud. Despite the way Lorenz is beaming at him, he isn’t going to embarrass himself. “It’s good,” is what he chooses to say, “better than what I’ve had before.”

A soft chuckle leaves Lorenz’s lips as he takes his own sip. “I assume that is a compliment coming from you. May I ask if there was anything of interest on my bookshelf? Do know you only have to ask if you wish to borrow something.”

“Not really.” Ugh, Lorenz is trying, and all he’s doing is shooting down every kind offer he’s given. (And Felix rather die of embarrassment before admitting he’d like to hear Lorenz talk about what operas he's seen.)

“Surely we must have something in common,” he says, “or would perhaps wish to find interest in each other’s hobbies.”

Felix has half a mind to suggest sparring, but there’s a chance he’d snap poor Lorenz like a twig without trying, given how slender he seems. “I like to train. Studying weapons as well, particularly swords.” Small talk was never one of his strong suits.

“While I do have my talents versed in magic, I am rather capable with a lance.” Felix perks up at this. “I suppose if you wished to practice your form, I would be a suitable partner to do such with.”

It’s a fancy way to be invited for a spar, but he’s not going to say no. The competitive nature inside him swirls, “I’ll be sure to enjoy notching a win against you.”

A brighter laugh leaves Lorenz this time. “I see I will have to match your passion on the training grounds, then. If you ever wish to examine our prized lances up close, I shall ask Father if you have permission to do so.”

It’s here where Felix realizes much too fast what kind of person Lorenz really is—more so, how his identity has been shaped by his father. Lorenz is twenty-three years old, and should not be reliant on good words from the man for the simple task of admiring weapons within what should also be his own property. Any sense of his true self is kept under lock and key, all under the fear his father may snuff out any sense of independence. 

It’s here Felix decides that’s a load of total and utter _shit._

“I don’t see why you have to bother with that.” Felix sets his cup of tea on its saucer. “Gloucester is just as much of your territory as it’s his. That’s not fair to you, Lorenz, and I’m sure you know that.”

Lorenz stares at him in silence, eyes slightly widened, as if no one’s bothered to tell him a truth that’s been kept at arm’s reach for far too many years.

“Why does it matter what he thinks? What about you?” Felix crosses his arms, trying not to sound as if he’s lecturing the other. “I get we’re both stuck because of the situation our fathers put us in, but didn’t you argue against this at all?”

“This is for the benefit of House Gloucester.” Lorenz shakes his head too quickly, any previous notion of cheer gone. “I could not argue such logic.”

He couldn’t— _what_ —there’s no way he’s hearing this correctly. “And why not?”

“My status as a noble defines my actions, Felix, and thus it bids me to do what is best for Gloucester.” His nails rap against the teacup, an attempt to hide his nerves. “Surely you must understand, as you bear the title yourself.”

“What’s your point?” Has he been brainwashed by his father? Who actually thinks this way anymore? “I’m still a living, breathing person. I’m not going to sell myself out due to what someone says my duties are. I decide for myself who I am and what I do.”

“Perhaps that is how the Kingdom operates, but I cannot say the same for the Alliance.” As if covering an unsightly frown, Lorenz goes to take a sip of tea. “I must do what is right, as I am set to lead it once I am ready to succeed my father.”

“And you think that’s going to happen anytime soon?” Count Gloucester seems to be the type of man that enjoys having his greedy hands surrounding the Alliance. “You aren’t a child anymore. You have a voice of your own. Use it.”

“I have nothing to oppose, Felix. I simply must not have done enough to take my father’s seat.” It sounds rehearsed. “Your scorn is unfounded.”

Saints. There’s someone in Fódlan who is more stubborn than Felix is. 

“Whatever.” Felix snorts, and finishes off his tea that’s somehow grown more bitter. “Continue to believe in that, Lorenz, and see where it gets you.”

It’s evident Lorenz attempts to knit his eyebrows together in a frown, and looks away from Felix as he pours himself another cup. 

They finish their tea in furthered silence.

Felix sleeps in the guest room.

* * *

They don’t hold a proper conversation until a week later. 

Lorenz brings up the sparring match from before, and suggests it’s a way for them to relieve some of their stress. Felix accepts, not bothering to inform Lorenz he’s found his way to the training grounds earlier, driving a dulled wooden sword into a dummy that he imagines to bear the sneering visage of Count Gloucester. 

Fighting’s a good way to get to know someone else, even if they’re unaware of it. You admit things you never mean to the heat of battle, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a fire, instinct seizing your senses like a rider attempting to tame a wild steed. It’s an odd thing to want to see someone angry, have their teeth bared, but Felix is inclined to believe it’ll be good for Lorenz to shed a layer or two of his perfectly crafted image. Quite frankly, Felix has had enough of his pompous attitude and would like to knock him down a peg.

And maybe he’ll get some truths out of Lorenz in the process, if he plays his cards right.

Felix taps the sword’s tip against the ground, eyeing Lorenz as he goes through a selection of training lances. If anything, it’s nice to see him out of those stuffy outfits of his. While the patterns on his tunic may be ornate, he doesn’t look like he’s forcing himself to dress for a crowd that’s never there.

“Don’t think I plan to go easy on you, Felix.” Lorenz’s tone attempts to sound playful, but it’s clear their minds are on the conversation from last week. “If anything, I expect a challenge.”

A snort leaves him. “I don’t go easy on anyone.” He’s going to knock that lance right out of his hands. 

“My father has commended the might your house possesses with a sword.” And there he goes again. My father this, my father that. Felix’s heard enough. “It would be an honor to witness that up close.”

“Lorenz, shut up.” Felix readies a stance. “Don’t make me repeat what I said earlier.”

“I see that you are willing to keep your incorrect assumptions about how I live my life.” Lorenz readies his own, eyes narrowed. “Do you truly believe I am mindlessly following my father’s orders? That independent thought is lost upon me?”

“I do. If you have a problem with that, then fine.” His hands grip harder around the sword’s hilt. “Unlike you, I was able to tell my father that I’d be more than happy to reject Count Gloucester’s so-called generous offer.”

He sees Lorenz’s eyebrows twitch, lips pulled into a thin line. His eyes close, breathing out a slow exhale. “You say that, yet you are still here.”

“I have my reasons.” That’s a terribly vague answer, but Felix isn’t going to admit he’s staying here to see if he can break Lorenz away from this shell of his. He knows if he heads back to Fraldarius, this is going to bother him, and it’ll be annoying. 

“And are you going to inform me of them?” He asks, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

“Maybe. Win a bout with me and I’ll consider telling you.” Lorenz is tall, and while height advantage may come into play here, Felix can think of plenty of weak spots to hit. 

He sees Lorenz scowl, and thinks it’s about damn time he shows some anger. It just needs to be directed at the right person. Maybe he’ll like the real Lorenz he’s about to see here. Maybe this isn’t how they handle matters in the Alliance, but this suffocating place could learn a thing or two from Faerghus, and Lorenz is about to learn how they do things up close.

There’s a simple etiquette to be held during a sparring match that Felix likes to follow: get the first strike.

Lorenz barely reacts in time, holding up his lance to block a swing from Felix’s sword. There’s a hint of surprise in his gaze, and Felix can’t help but to find enjoyment in it. 

“You are much more agile than I expected.” Lorenz pushes back his sword, holding his weapon tighter. “It appears I must keep my instincts sharper than usual.”

There’s another rule Felix likes to follow on the battlefield: talking is a distraction. Distraction leads to the early deaths of soldiers who dared to turn their eyes away for a split second. Your eyes are to never leave the one in front of you. Risking a slashed throat isn’t worth some pretty words or clever banter. You’re meant to win; you’re meant to survive. 

Lorenz’s form isn’t bad. For all the talk he gives, there’s at least some foundation behind it. His strikes are controlled, precise, but he never seems to take any gambits. Felix isn’t one to support blind risks on the battlefield, but it’s ignorant to assume the possibility is never going to happen. Really, it seems like he’s aiming for his so-called unattainable perfection with how he moves, striving to impress the eyes he believes are always following him.

More than ever, Felix needs Lorenz to realize the situation his father’s put him in—one that extends past their arrangement.

It’s easy to pivot on his heels away from Lorenz’s next jab, and brings his sword to the side of Lorenz’s neck. He freezes in place, eyes looking down at Felix, shock present once more. 

“Who are you trying to impress?” Felix doesn’t lower his arm. “There’s only two of us here, and I asked to spar, not to see you twirl a practice lance around.”

“Was that not what we were doing?” Lorenz asks with a sigh. “I do not know what you are demanding of me.”

“You do, and you’re not admitting it.” It’s going to take a few more rounds until he’s going to get any answers. Fine. He lowers his sword, and puts distance between them. “Cut the talk and come at me like you mean it.”

A huff leaves Lorenz as he readies a similar stance to before. Careful, practiced, the same force as before guiding him. He’s easy to read, and Felix is able to parry every thrust of his lance. He notices a slight change in expression, how he’s attempting to mind his temper, as if anger has no place on a battlefield.

The dulled sword stops a hair’s breadth away from Lorenz’s side. “Your father isn’t watching us.”

Lorenz says nothing, but the way his fingers twitch around the lance are louder than any words. 

“And if he was, I’d give him a piece of my mind if he said anything.” The situation’s coming into place, clear as ever, and Felix isn’t pleased. “I’m sure you’re just as tired of his criticism.”

“That… that is _preposterous_!” Lorenz balks. “If I have erred in some manner, then I must rectify said mistakes!”

“There’s only one mistake I’ve seen you make, and it’s continuing to blindly listen to that man.” Lorenz has been made to think everything but. “And you know I’m right.”

This time, Lorenz strikes at him without warning. His actions tell Felix everything he needs to know, and he’s finally putting up something of a challenge as he meets each thrust of his lance. It’s refreshing to see Lorenz shed a layer of his mask, and Felix wonders how much he can manage to chip away. Ugly as anger tends to be, its release can do more for a person than they’ve ever imagined.

Lorenz’s breathing is heavy when the lance’s tip points itself towards Felix’s chest. There’s a few hairs out of place. “You said when I won a bout, you would explain why you are still in Gloucester. I believe I have earned the right to hear it.”

“I wanted to see if you were more than just some nobleman’s puppet.” Felix doesn’t bother to lower the lance. “I wanted to see if you could get angry, or actually show me who you really are. I’m not blind, Lorenz. I’ve seen you flinch when your father speaks to you.”

Slowly, the anger fades from Lorenz’s face as he looks to the side, lowering his lance. “I must act in accordance with what my father wishes of me, Felix. I am simply avoiding a lecture.”

Something tells Felix these lectures are anything but kind. “So he insults you.”

Lorenz is silent once more, and Felix lets out a sigh. Okay, so maybe he pushed too hard too soon. He’s never been good at this stuff. “You don’t have to act this way around me. I’d rather see the real Lorenz.”

“That is quite the claim coming from you.” Lorenz still isn’t looking him in the eyes. “There is hardly a single thing I know about you, other than you like weapons and sparring.”

...Yeah, there’s no denying that. “Fine, then. Let’s actually try to learn about each other, and not because it’s what people expect of us. We’re doing this on our own terms.” He holds out a hand. “Deal?”

Lorenz brushes some hair behind his ear, then reaches out to take hold of Felix’s hand. “Deal.”

* * *

In the weeks that follow, they continue to meet in Lorenz’s room for tea. Felix adjusts to his routine, and notices how busy the other ends up being, whether he’s stuck in roundtable meetings or assisting his father (and Felix uses that term loosely as possible) with governmental affairs. He also notices how tired Lorenz looks some evenings, but elects not to comment. It’s been a slow process between them both, but they have been opening up, and it’s exhausting. Felix is more than fine if they take their time on this. 

“I procured Four-Spice Blend for us this time.” Lorenz’s smile is far more relaxed as he pours Felix a cup. “As I recall, that was another favorite of yours.”

“It is.” This time, Felix is able to return it. “Thank you.”

“While I am aware I could choose the blend, I believe they would not be to your liking.” Lorenz takes his seat, hands wrapped around his cup. “As you may have guessed, I am fond of floral blends.”

“I’m shocked.” Felix snorts, taking a sip of his tea. Yeah, it’s still the best he’s ever had. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“I see your wit is sharp as ever.” The gentle sound of rain accompanies their evening alongside the gentle crackling of a fireplace. “Have you begun to enjoy your time in Gloucester?”

“It’s… better.” Felix still thinks Count Gloucester deserves to be stabbed. “You seem to have a lot of work ahead of you.”

“Work that may be your own, if you are not to return to Fraldarius,” Lorenz comments, “and while I would appreciate a moment to breathe, were I to ask that of my father…”

“I still think you should tell him off.” Having Lorenz overwork himself isn’t going to do them any good. “I’d back you up,” he adds.

“And risk your and Lord Rodrigue’s place here? I think not.” Lorenz gives a small frown. “I know that I must speak my mind, but if he accuses you of influencing me in any way, I would hate to hear what he would say towards you.”

“I can handle it.” They’ve made progress, even if Felix still feels as though he’s digging through a dirt wall with one of Lorenz’s fancy tea spoons. “You deserve Gloucester more than he does. You’d actually lead it well.”

There’s a sound of said tea spoon running against the cup’s rim. “I know you are correct. I have studied all I can, and gotten to know the lords and ladies of other territories and countries. Unlike him, I have expanded my world view, spoken with those from Almyra…” Lorenz pauses to sigh. “And I know it is unbecoming of me to speak of these achievements as if I am bragging. I should not act as such for possessing humanity.”

“It proves you’re different from him.” Anyone should count their lucky stars to be anything unlike Count Gloucester. “You’re your own person, Lorenz, like I’ve said before.”

He nods, and takes another sip of tea. “I am aware. It is just a matter of him realizing that as well.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he will.” Felix looks out the window, and figures a change of topic may be in order. There isn’t any need to stress out Lorenz any further. “Did you plant all those roses yourself?”

“Hm?” Lorenz blinks, following his gaze to the window. “I have done so for a fair amount of them, yes. Our gardeners tend to the rest.”

That explains the roses in the book from before. “Sounds relaxing. How often do you get a chance to go out there?”

“Not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Were it not for the weather, I would be glad to show you the gardens.” Lorenz’s tone is wistful. “While roses are the most prominent flower there, I do have others I can show you.”

Felix can’t believe he’s about to agree to this, but the idea of walking around the gardens with Lorenz sounds… nice. “I hope you get some free time soon, then.”

“Mmm? Eager to spend more time together?” Lorenz teases, eyes focused on Felix. “This is quite the improvement from earlier.”

“I—!” Annoyingly, his cheeks heat up. “We’ve already been spending time together, Lorenz.”

“Even so, I have not shown you our gardens yet, and they are some of the finest sights Gloucester has to offer.” He seems unaffected by the fact that Felix is blushing. “I wish for you to enjoy your time here.”

“I haven’t left yet, have I?” How warmly reassuring. “I want to be here.”

Lorenz’s smile is what most can describe as fond, and Felix isn’t sure how to feel. “I am warmed to hear that.”

* * *

  
  
When the skies are clear as ever, the sun’s warm rays sweeping over the estate, Felix takes up Lorenz’s invitation to see the gardens. 

There’s rose bushes as far as the eye can see, all various shades of different colors. There’s far more than Felix’s seen in that book, and has to admit he’s rather impressed. Even if Lorenz hasn’t had time to tend to each one, he’s clearly instructed the gardeners to attend to them with great care. Rows of flowers he doesn’t recognize lie to plots to the sides of the roses, but it’s clear what Lorenz considers to be the pride of the gardens.

Felix finds that he’s starting to not mind the smell of roses.

“Come, Felix.” Lorenz has a wicker basket hung over his arm that carries a pair of gardening shears and gloves. His hair is tied into a loose braid with a red ribbon, and it’s the most natural Felix has ever seen him. “Perhaps we can enjoy tending to the flowers together.”

“Sure.” He doesn’t know the first thing about caring for flowers, but he’ll do whatever he can to help. “I can’t imagine how many roses you have here.”

“It is one of many things Gloucester is known for, after all.” Lorenz gestures to the pin on his lapel. “And as you have noticed, I do carry quite the affinity in them, in tea or otherwise.”

“I have.” Felix almost sounds fond. “What made you end up liking roses so much?”

“They were the favorite flower of my late mother.” Lorenz sets the basket on the ground, taking out the shears. He pulls the gloves on, and begins to inspect one of the bushes with great care. “She passed away when I was nine, but I fondly remember the times she would take me out to the gardens. I would sit here and watch her tend to each flower as they were her children.”

Felix doesn’t speak, and nods as he kneels down at Lorenz’s side. His mother died when he was young too, huh? Felix lost his own at a younger age, and as such, carries less memories of her.

“The attendants would always insist upon helping her, but she sent them all away with a flick of her hand,” he continues, voice soft, “that she would always wish to do this work herself. She would pick the loveliest roses from the bunch, and take them within the estate.”

“Did she press them into books like you did?” Felix’s voice carries the same gentle tone Lorenz’s does. 

“She did.” Lorenz takes out a single rose, and begins to snip off its thorns. “Not only that, she would use them for tea, and the others would find themselves in several vases in our home. We would preserve them with magic, so they would last quite a long time.”

Lorenz is so easy to listen to now, Felix discovers. “I didn’t think magic could be used that way.”

“Magic has its applications off the battlefield, and it was something my mother loved to study. She was very wise.” He inspects the rose carefully, its red petals nearly gleaming in the sunlight. “There was another tradition she liked as well.” 

Before Felix has time to say anything, Lorenz leans over to tuck the rose behind his ear with a smile. “She would say nothing would enhance a rose’s beauty more than one who wore it with confidence.” And just like that, Lorenz returns to attending to the rose bush.

Felix’s eyes are wide, face beet red as Lorenz’s touch lingers upon his cheek. He’s trying to process what exactly just happened, and frustratingly, his brain’s stopped working. All he can think about is the rose he now wears, and how he hasn’t dared to remove it. His gaze is transfixed on Lorenz, who… who’s starting to look different. 

As Felix tries to wrestle with that thought, soft humming begins to fill the afternoon skies. It accompanies the funny fluttering in his chest, the music leaving Lorenz’s lips working in rhythm with his heart. Felix doesn’t know what song this is, and maybe he never will, but he doesn’t want to stop hearing it. Lorenz, unaware as ever to the way Felix is looking at him, begins to softly sing as he continues to work on dethorning the next rose.

Lorenz’s eyes, which are suddenly so enrapturing and striking, glint in the sunlight as he inspects each flower with care. His lips curve into a gentle smile as he sings, drawing Felix to the shape of his jawline. Even his hair looks softer, and maybe Felix wants to reach out and touch it, to tuck it behind his ear—

_Oh._

Felix’s first thought is that this can’t be happening. There’s no way he’s actually fallen for Lorenz. This wasn’t planned, but then again, love never is. They’ve both agreed this arrangement is ridiculous, that they didn’t want it, that they should find love on their own terms—and yet, and _yet—_ that’s exactly what they’ve done. They’ve gotten to genuinely know each other, and Felix has ended up liking the real Lorenz. 

Felix Hugo Fraldarius is not romantically inclined. Now that he’s come to realize he has feelings, the next step is lost on him. Does he just come out and say it? Does he wait to see if it’s a good idea before he thinks about doing this? It’s stupid to keep his mouth shut, they’re essentially living together; Lorenz is going to notice eventually.

How is he going to get through dinner? Through tomorrow? Is he just supposed to deal with the heart palpitations while he sits and has tea? He’s not going to do that stupid thing where he dreams about Lorenz, right? Goddess help him if he turns into a complete idiot when faced with these feelings. The last thing he needs is to be obvious—is he even going to tell Lorenz? He has to, doesn’t he? Great. 

Felix grumbles to himself as he tries to focus. Lorenz is annoyingly observant, and the last thing he needs is to wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s still working on selecting roses to take into the estate, to make into tea, something his mind can’t think of because he’s too busy staring at Lorenz, and Felix notices he hasn’t put one behind his own ear yet. While Felix can entertain the idea of returning the gesture, it may actually kill him if he touches Lorenz right now.

“Lovely,” comes Lorenz’s voice once more as he takes another rose, “the rain has been more than kind to them. I have not seen them bloom so beautifully in some time.”

“They… they look nice.” Felix is this close to withering away in embarrassment. “They’re lucky that you care of them.” What the hell was that? Why did he say this out loud?

Lorenz turns to him with a smile, and Felix swears that he’s _glowing_ with the way the sun shines behind him. “Such flattery! My, Felix, I was unaware you were capable of saying such sweet words.”

Naturally, Felix’s response is to go red once more, eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m just saying you’re good at what you do. That’s all.”

The laughter he hears in reply is soft, like wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. “I did not say your compliments were unwelcome. I shall take them to heart.”

Lorenz sings for the rest of their trip throughout the gardens. They part ways before dinner, as Lorenz wishes to visit his mother’s grave to leave some of the newest blooms over it. It’s better to leave him be for this, and it works out well for Felix, who still needs some time to process the dawning realization that’s hit him square in the face. 

Felix enters his room, and delicately takes the rose from behind his ear and places it on the nightstand. He falls face first on the bed, buries his face into a pillow, and lets out a heavy sigh. Ridiculous—it’s absolutely ridiculous how stupid he feels about actually falling for the man he’s supposed to marry. His purpose in staying was to get Lorenz to realize some truths he’d been avoiding, and now all he can do is think about how much he’s grown to love the smell of roses.

He’ll tell Lorenz.

Eventually.

* * *

Felix is beginning to run out of excuses for why he’s still in Gloucester. His father has expected him to call off the marriage by now, and Felix hasn’t given for them a reason to return home yet. He’s carefully avoided the topic around Count Gloucester as well, despite the headaches this offers. It’s a miracle Lorenz hasn’t asked, because Felix isn’t sure what he’ll say in response. Maybe Lorenz knows, and just wants Felix to say it first.

He’s fallen into a routine of his own, even if it’s not one he expects. Even if Lorenz isn’t present, he finds himself in the training grounds, glad to not sit idle. He attends some meetings with Lorenz, if only to know what he may or may not be getting into—and he’s glad to see the other speak out against his father, albeit slowly—if he’s actually staying. They continue to have tea, and he continues to watch Lorenz tend to the flowers.

There’s a small bouquet of midnight blue roses that rest on Felix’s bedside table now, imbued with magic to never wilt. They’re often the last thing he sees before falling asleep, one of the first things upon waking up, a reminder of his unsaid feelings. It’s stupid to say the flowers are mocking him, but they sort of are. 

_“Why don’t you tell Lorenz?”_ They ask. _“It’s clear he feels something towards you!”_

“Because I don’t want to look like an idiot,” he mumbles. Talking to himself in his room isn’t helping Felix’s case here, either. 

For all Felix knows, he’s mistaking Lorenz’s “signals” as kindness. Even if it’s not the wisest to assume he’d give anyone all these roses, get them their favorite types of tea, find pastries that are more sour for their palate, unearth some old sword for someone to study... 

Alright, yeah, there’s a pretty good chance Lorenz likes him. Too bad Felix’s romantic capabilities are non-existent. Unless Lorenz makes the first move—and why hasn’t he, the man is a walking romance novel—they’re going to be stuck like this for the rest of their lives. Terrible as Felix may be when it comes to this, the idea of sitting around in agony sounds really unpleasant.

Maybe he’ll just go talk to Lorenz. He should be done with talking to his father at this point, and he’ll just go from there. This could be a good idea, a bad one—Felix doesn’t know. It’s not as if he has any experience in this subject. If he thinks on it, he won’t accomplish anything, and he’ll be stuck at frustratingly glaring at flowers again.

Before he leaves, Felix takes one of the roses in his hands. If he can’t spit it out with words, maybe giving him one in turn will get the point across.

He’s learned his way around the estate rather well by now, so it doesn’t take long to approach Count Gloucester’s office. However, he doesn’t expect to hear the tailend of an argument from behind its doors.

“I am _tired_ of waiting, Lorenz.” Felix pauses in his steps. He shouldn’t be here. “Are you set to wed Fraldarius’ heir or not? He has resided here long enough, and quite frankly, has been taking up space.”

“As I have said before, Father, I would rather wait to hear Felix’s thoughts on the matter. This concerns him as much as it does me.” Lorenz’s tone is even. “He seems to be happy for the moment. Is that not enough?”

“That informs me of nothing for Gloucester’s future, boy. If this arrangement is a failure, I need to scout out further options for your marriage. Gloucester needs heirs, Lorenz. I thought you were aware.” Felix doesn’t have to be there to imagine his cold eyes, hands folded under his chin, gaze piercing into Lorenz.

“I am aware that is what you want. However, I believe whatever Felix and I desire should play a part in this as well.” Felix holds his breath. “You and Lord Rodrigue set this up without once asking our opinions on this matter, and I hardly see that as fair.”

He hears a scoff. “Fairness is not a privilege I am willing to offer you. You have been acting like a brat for these past discussions of ours, and I am well within my rights to send Felix back to Fraldarius, regardless of how _fair_ you think that may be.”

Felix frowns. What a piece of shit.

“The Crests you and Felix possess carry worth, and I grow tired of you rejecting every instance of a surrogate mother to hold a child. I have found several women who would be honored to do as such, and your stubborn attitude has not helped in any matter. Unless you hold no interest in this, however, and are withholding the truth from me.” Even from here, Felix can feel a chill. “And you know I am not fond of liars.”

“I do not see a reason for an heir if that does not fall in line with our desires,” comes his reply, “or perhaps is not an immediate concern for us. Do Felix and I not have the privilege of deciding this for ourselves?”

“You are nobles, and ones who bear Crests. I believe your fate has been spelled out for you since your births. You are meant to pass them down and secure not only our legacy, but a spot at the roundtable in the future. To toss this away on a whim is a fool’s game, Lorenz, and I did not think you so blindly ignorant.” For how caustic his words are, Count Gloucester’s tone is calm. “I did not raise a fool.”

“We do not need an heir with a Crest. That is all I am trying to say. Were Felix and I to adopt, perhaps—”

A snort. “Do not finish that thought if you know what is best for you. I will not entertain this any longer. With each conversation we hold, you give me further proof you are not ready to lead Gloucester. Until these ridiculous thoughts leave your head, I do not wish to see you in my office. It has been difficult working with you as is, Lorenz, and you are furthering my discontent.”

“Father—” 

“You are dismissed.” Not even Fraldarian winters are as bitter as his voice.

Felix takes a few steps back, arms folded behind him, hiding the rose as a dejected, tired Lorenz opens the door. Their eyes meet, and Felix swears he can sense Lorenz’s blood turn to ice. The frown on Felix’s face is less angry, and he takes another step backwards, silently beckoning for Lorenz to follow. There’s no more to be said here.

The pair returns to Lorenz’s room in silence. Felix places the rose on the table, fidgeting with his hands. He’s never been good at comforting others, and it’s harder still when anger threatens to boil over. Felix has never held a high opinion of Count Glocuester, and it’s lower than ever after hearing the way he still speaks to Lorenz. It hurts to see the other so worn, confidence snatched from him so cruelly. 

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have heard any of that,” Felix begins, “and you didn’t deserve to get treated that way.”

“That is not the first discussion that has gone in such a manner.” Lorenz shakes his head. “I hold no shame in voicing my beliefs, but to be spoken to like a misbehaved child…”

“I don’t get how he can get away with that.” Stabbing him doesn’t sound like a bad option. “He’s horrible.” 

“He is just as powerful, Felix, and has wits to match. I would love nothing more than lead Gloucester, if only to take it away from someone who still looks down upon the common folk with such disdain.” Lorenz sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “The Alliance deserves better. I know that it does.”

“You know you’re worthy of it, Lorenz. You’d actually care about your people more than your pride or stupid title.” And that’s a good enough start, Felix believes. Lorenz’s motives aren’t selfish. “He’s not giving it up because he knows the people would like you more, and he’d hate it.”

Lorenz looks over to him, and manages something of a soft chuckle. “You truly believe that? You have barely seen me speak of political matters, Felix, to say this with such conviction.”

He shrugs. “I know who you are as a person. You wouldn’t put on some face for the Alliance, and I think that’s honorable. And like I said, you actually care.”

“Thank you.” Lorenz’s smile is small, but it’s there. “I do not regret listening to you, Felix, or finally allowing my voice to be heard. I suppose it is just disappointing to come to terms with how vile my father truly is.”

“I’ll help you get through it. I know I’m not good with this, but… I’ve got your back, Lorenz.” Felix takes the rose once more, and tries to will down the frayed nerves in his system. “You’re smarter than he is, and I know you won’t give up.” He places the rose behind Lorenz’s ear, hoping Lorenz isn’t able to hear the wild beating of his heart. “That’s not the Lorenz I know.”

A soft sound leaves Lorenz’s lips as he brushes his fingers against the rose; Felix swears his cheeks carry a pink hue to them. “I suppose I must work even harder, then, as I would hate to disappoint you.”

“Just remember to take a break,” Felix mumbles, mind still reeling from the fact he just _did_ that, “I’m not going to pity you if you get sick.”

Lorenz’s fingers are still on the rose as he lets out another laugh. “You have my word.”

* * *

It’s at their next meeting for tea that Felix wonders how long he can sit on his feelings. They’re in the gardens this time, amongst the rose bushes. The heavy conversation from before lingers, how Felix swears they were minutes away from saying something, how Lorenz has kept that rose by his bedside. He can’t tell if they’ve been looking at each other more, if their hands keep brushing against each other—just that something’s going to boil over eventually, and it’s going to drive him insane.

Felix has always been one to go for actions over words, regardless of how good or bad of an idea it may be. Goddess knows he can’t just spit out his confession, and at this rate, who knows if Lorenz is going to do the same. 

“I hope I am not being presumptuous in assuming you would wish to try rose tea this afternoon.” Lorenz goes to stand as he begins to pour Felix his tea. “With how often you accompany me to the gardens, I am inclined to believe you would like to try a cup.”

“Right,” he manages to get out, trying not to stare up at Lorenz, “I don’t mind.”

“If it is too sweet for you, I hardly mind making you a new pot.” Lorenz pours his own cup next. “It would be of no issue.”

“You wouldn’t have to.” Felix’s heart is hammering in his chest. “I’ll try it for you.”

When Lorenz smiles at him once more, eyes crinkling, Felix decides to think _fuck it,_ and throws caution to the wind.

Before the pot of tea is set on the table, Felix grabs him by the lapels of his waistcoat to pull him down into a kiss. His fingers curl into its fabric, keeping Lorenz close, chasing every ounce of warmth on his lips that Felix is able to find. Lorenz’s lips are soft, and despite how they haven’t had any tea, Felix imagines the sweetness they carry is what he’d taste among the rose petals. It’s the only sweetness Felix may ever welcome, and he’s not ignorant enough to deny he’s going to want more.

They part, and Lorenz stares at him with cheeks as red as the rose he wears. “Felix—w-we are in public—!”

Felix kisses him again, and this time, Lorenz’s lips meld against his own. He breathes a gentle sigh, parting his lips as his tongue swipes against Lorenz’s lower lip, hands traveling through his hair. There’s a soft clatter heard as the teapot is placed on the table before Lorenz’s hands run down Felix’s waist, offering a noise of his own as his own lips part. It’s certainly a messier kiss, nothing defined as noble, but Felix can’t find it within himself to care as he slips his tongue into Lorenz’s mouth.

“Felix—” Lorenz’s breathlessness is far more attractive than it needs to be. “This is hardly the place to kiss in such a fashion, and I believe we should speak on these matters before indulging further.”

He has half a mind to place himself on Lorenz’s lap once he’s seated, but Felix knows it’s needed. However, thinking isn’t something that comes easy at the moment, given he’s still desiring to kiss Lorenz senseless. “Yeah.”

He clears his throat before sitting. “I suppose it is rather obvious, but it appears we have fallen for each other.” Lorenz moves his chair closer to Felix’s as he takes one of his hands. “And we have been fools, and pushed our feelings to the side for too long.”

Felix just nods, trying to will any other words to spill forth. “I’ve felt this way about you for a while.” 

“And I you.” Lorenz brushes his thumb over Felix’s hand. “Am I too bold in saying that I have fallen in love with you?”

Despite how Felix’s entire face reddens, he’s able to manage coherent speech. “You aren’t. ...I’m going to say this only once, so you better listen,” he says, “I’ve fallen in love with you, Lorenz. The real you.”

“Only once? I must savor these words while I can.” Lorenz’s laugh is lighter than before. “But you must realize the situation this puts us in. We wish to marry, but it must be on our own terms, and that shall bring its complications.”

“I’m aware.” Felix knows he’s going to tell Lorenz that phrase more than once. He’s just bad at this. “I’m prepared to weather any storm with you. We’ll deal with Count Gloucester, and the Alliance will be in better hands. It’ll be worth it.”

“I am not a man who shirks one’s duty, especially in the face of adversity.” Lorenz gives their conjoined hands a squeeze. “Whatever obstacles come our way, we shall overcome them.”

“I’m ready to deal with whatever happens.” This isn’t something Felix is necessarily prepared for, but he’ll be able to match Lorenz’s determination. 

“We shall persevere, Felix. I have endless faith in us.” This time, Lorenz lifts Felix’s hand to brush his lips against his fingers. “And I am honored to call you my beloved.”

Poor Felix isn’t sure how to respond as his brain fuzzes over. “I’m glad too.”

“And perhaps we can return to our earlier indulgence, once I take you back to my quarters.” Acting as if he hasn’t just turned the rest of Felix’s mind to mush, Lorenz sips at his tea. “If you would permit it, that is.”

Felix stares at him for a few good minutes, eyes wide and red as ever as Lorenz laughs, and calmly goes to pour himself another cup of tea.

Later that evening, Felix discovers how soft Lorenz’s bedsheets are.

* * *

  
  


There’s a waiting period they decide to agree on before telling Rodrigue the news. Felix loathes being hounded, and for now, it’s better to have Lorenz’s attention on him behind closed doors. It’s easy to adjust to waking up in his hold come sunrise, wrapped up in silk sheets (which Felix now hardly minds), the world a mile away behind their closed bedroom door. Lorenz looks far better without stress painting his features, and Felix hopes it’s one that’ll stay. Gloucester can’t reach the pair from here, even if it’s temporary.

Nevertheless, Felix doesn’t expect his father to approach them first, hand wrapped around a bundle of what looks to be a collection of letters. 

“Is this where you’ve been, old man?” Felix has wondered why he’s hardly seen his father around as of late. “Who are these from?”

“I know I have much to explain, and I apologize for the wait. Could I have gotten what I needed sooner...” Rodrigue shakes his head with a sigh. “However, I ask that I may speak. This involves your arrangement.”

Felix and Lorenz both give a nod, and he has to wonder if the letters are the reason they’re meeting in private.

“As the one who got you into this situation, Felix, I felt like I owed it to you to make it more manageable,” he begins, “and following the rumors that I’ve heard about Count Gloucester, I took it upon myself to do some poking around of my own. Lorenz, before I continue, are you willing to hear these?”

“I am.” Lorenz takes Felix’s hand, and gives it a squeeze. “Do not sugarcoat your words on my account, Lord Rodrigue. I am aware of how unpleasant my father is.”

“Both of you are aware of the circumstances surrounding the late Duke Riegan’s death, as well as a pair of merchants that fell by his side.” They both nod, and Rodrigue continues. “No one has dared to breathe a word of this, out of fear, but many believe Count Gloucester was behind their deaths.”

Lorenz squeezes Felix’s hand even tighter.

“It was difficult to find evidence that would condemn Count Gloucester, but perhaps he’s spent too long underestimating others.” Rodrigue extends the letters towards Lorenz. “This should be all that is necessary to take him to court, and begin the transition of having Gloucester under your rule, Lorenz. This is the least I can offer, as I am aware of the initial stress this has put you both through.”

“I… truly do not know what to say.” Lorenz looks through the letters carefully, acting as if Rodrigue’s placed sacred texts within his hands. Considering these will get rid of his father, Felix is willing to say they are. “Other than to thank you, Lord Rodrigue, for offering this blessing.”

“As said, I could offer nothing less. I had agreed to this arrangement in the first place, and had not considered how Felix felt as much as I should have. However…” He glances towards their conjoined hands. “It seems as if you two have found comforts within each other.”

Were this not such a delicate moment for Lorenz, Felix would’ve said he and Lorenz fell for each other on their own terms, no thanks to this discovery. This does help, however, as they’ll be able to get rid of Count Gloucester without Felix feeling the constant urge to stab him. They’ll be able to continue to fall in love by their own means, and marry on their own terms. Most importantly, no one’s going to be around to speak to Lorenz in such a disgusting manner anymore. 

“Felix has been nothing short of supportive.” Lorenz delicately sets the papers aside to wrap his other hand around Felix’s. “It has truly been an honor to fall in love with your son.”

Despite how his father is the last person Felix wishes to ever fluster in front of, his cheeks turn a rosy red. 

To Felix’s further chagrin, Rodrigue gives a warm laugh. “I am truly glad you found happiness with each other. I’ll leave you both to discuss this matter further, and know that I shall continue to support you however I can.”

When Rodrigue takes his leave, Lorenz is quick to gather Felix into a tight embrace, burying his head into the other’s shoulder. It takes less than a second for Felix to return the gesture as he rubs small circles into Lorenz’s back, leaning their heads together.

“We can get rid of him,” Felix says, “and we’re going to piss him off the entire time while doing it.”

Lorenz lets out a soft laugh, one laced with relief and joy and bliss, and the world seems that much brighter.

* * *

It’s been years since Count Gloucester’s removal from power and the good tidings that have followed.

Felix and Lorenz have married, and have seen to bettering the Alliance as times goes on. The borders Lorenz’s father set between noble and common folk, between Fodlan and Almyra disappear, never having belonged there in the first place. Relations between Leicester and the Kingdom are stronger than ever, and the pair travel frequently between each country.

Adoption’s come up in some conversations, and perhaps when they’re ready, Felix and Lorenz will move forward with it. It’s only fair to bring a child home if they can afford to set time aside to raise them properly, and are not inundated with endless piles of work and travel. They want their home to be a happy one, never to carry the stifling environment they were raised under, no expectations to live up to. When the time comes, they’ll know.

Felix shifts under the same silk sheets he used to once find ridiculous, Lorenz’s arms wrapped around him. It’s easy to admire him as he rests, truly at ease, the day’s work still locked behind their door. They can wait a moment longer to attend to their duties, Felix thinks, as he lightly brushes some hair out of Lorenz’s face. The action doesn’t stir him awake just yet, and they can rest just a moment longer.

He tucks his head against Lorenz’s shoulder, and breathes in his scent. Roses grace his senses yet again, and this time, Felix hardly minds their smell.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a comment/kudos! If you want to hear about future works and rambles, make sure to follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/that_nebbles)


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